


The Price of Silence

by Morgan Briarwood (morgan32)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-24
Updated: 2009-07-24
Packaged: 2017-10-02 11:10:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgan32/pseuds/Morgan%20Briarwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Halloween, 2004: Jessica has a secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Price of Silence

#### Stanford University, October 2004

"You don't want us to go as a couple?" Jessica's smile faded. She started to tear the corner off her napkin; it was a nervous habit. If Sam didn't change the subject soon, there would be a small pile of ripped tissue on the table when they left.

Sam reached across the table and covered her hand with his. "It's not about us being a couple, Jess," he assured her. "I'm happy to go to the party with you. I just don't want to get into some silly costume."

She sipped her coffee. "Well, let's think of something you won't find silly, then."

Sam shook his head, but before he could explain that the problem wasn't "silly", she was back to planning the party.

"How about a cowboy?" she suggested eagerly. "You'd look great in a Stetson, and I could be Calamity Jane."

Sam reached for his latte, but found the mug empty. He stood to get another. "No cowboys, Jess. I don't do guns, not even fake ones. I'll be right back."

"It's not like you'd have to shoot anyone!" she called after him, frustrated.

She watched Sam's back all the way to the counter. He ordered two more mugs of coffee and then, glancing back her way paid for a couple of muffins, too. She couldn't help smiling. Coffee and chocolate: Sam Winchester's version of an apology.

Sam returned to their table. "Here you go."

"Let's do the Addams Family," Jess suggested. You'd make a great Gomez." He would, too. He had the height, the dark hair...they could hire a suit for him...

But Sam shot her down again. "Jess, I really don't like Halloween. This whole dressing up thing... Listen, I'll go to the party, but I just don't like the costume deal."

Jess unwrapped her muffin. "I should have remembered. You didn't dress up last year either."

Sam frowned. "You didn't know me this time last year."

She smiled at him. "I know I didn't. That was the first time we almost-met."

***

#### Halloween, 2003

Jess was dressed as Elvira. She was having a great time despite the deafening noise of the party. Conversation was difficult: Jess had to yell to get anyone to hear her. After a while Jess and her friends settled around a table with twenty or so tequila shots and pointed out the hottest men in the room to each other. Of course, under zombie masks and fake blood, hotness was difficult to judge objectively.

That was how Jess first saw Sam Winchester. He stood out in the crowd because he was the only man in the room not wearing a Halloween costume. He wore a light blue striped shirt over a white t-shirt and had a bottle of lite beer in his hand. He was talking (or, given the noise level, probably bellowing) with a guy dressed as Leatherface.

Jess nudged the girl next to her. "Em, who's that?" she shouted, pointing.

Emma stared. "Under that mask, who knows?"

"No, the guy in the blue shirt."

Emma gave Jess an appraising look. "Sam...something. Wilkinson? He was in my art history class."

"He's cute."

Emma shrugged. "Nice guy. Kind of a nerd, though."

"Cute." Jess repeated.

And, that night, that was all.

Jess forgot all about Sam until just before Thanksgiving, when almost everyone had gone home for the holiday weekend. Jess was still at Stanford because her parents lived in Palo Alto. She'd been at the library rushing to finish an already-late assignment and saw Sam at a table, making notes from a book. He glanced up as she passed him and she gave him a smile. They didn't speak.

She didn't see him again until after Christmas vacation, but that time she found the courage to introduce herself. A few days later, he approached her after class and asked her out.

***

#### October, 2004

Sam laughed. "In that case, Jess, I'm definitely not dressing up. I always want to stand out in a crowd for you."

Jess mock-growled in frustration. "Fine. I'll find a costume for you that'll _really_ stand out. But you've got to come to the party, Sam. C'mon, please." She was all ready to put on a little puppy face and beg, but the look in Sam's eyes stopped her suddenly.

Sam was frowning into his coffee. "Look, Jess, you have good memories of Halloween, right?"

"Well...yeah."

"I'll bet your mom dressed you up as a princess when you were little. You went trick-or-treating in a nice, safe neighbourhood, collecting enough candy to make yourself sick for a week. It's a fun holiday for you. But it's not like that for me, Jess. I don't want to join in because it'll bring up too many bad memories. Okay?"

The _little princess_ remark was embarrassingly accurate. But Jess could see the sadness in Sam's eyes and she squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Maybe," she suggested tentatively, "we could replace those bad memories with some good ones."

Sam shook his head. "It's a nice thought, Jess, but no. That's not gonna work."

He looked so unhappy she wanted to hug him tight. "What's wrong, Sam? Tell me."

Sam shrugged. Jess waited.

Sam sighed. "My mom...passed...when I was a baby. Sometime around Halloween the year I was born."

Jess drew in her breath sharply. "Oh, god, Sam. I'm sorry." She hadn't even known his mother was dead. Sam never talked about his family.

Sam took a long drink of coffee. He stared into the mug. "I was raised by..." He laughed suddenly, a hollow, bitter laugh. "...By my brother, really. Our dad didn't deal too well with losing Mom. I mean..." He met her eyes unhappily. "I get it. I really do. Dad lost everything when she passed. But he was never around when I was little and this time of year the only place you'd find Dad was the bottom of a bottle of Jack. I was never allowed trick-or-treating. I never got to dress up. One year..." His voice trailed off.

Jess said nothing, but held his hand in hers.

"One year..." Sam went on, his voice suddenly quiet, as if he were telling a secret, "when I was six or seven, we made Jack o'Lanterns in school. I'd found this picture in...a book, a demon face. I worked really hard to get that face on my pumpkin. I guess the result wasn't great, but it was recognisable. So I carried my pumpkin home after school, really proud of myself, wanting to show it off to Dad. He...he over-reacted. That was...that was the day I found out what happened to my mom."

"What happened?" Jess asked.

"There was a fire. In my nursery. Dad...he got me and Dean out, but mom...died."

Jess moved her chair around to his side and kissed him. She couldn't think of a thing to say.

***

#### October, 2005 (One Year Later)

"Jess! No!"

Jess woke with a start. She reached across the bed. "Sam?"

Sam was sitting up in their bed, breathing hard as if he'd been running. He felt for the bedside light and snapped it on.

"Sam?" Jess sat up, resting a hand on his arm. His skin was clammy with sweat. "What's wrong?"

Sam lay back down heavily. "Nightmare," he said shortly. "Just a nightmare. Come here."

Jess moved into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder. Sam held her tightly against him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

"No, I want to forget it. God!"

She stroked his bare chest. "It was only a dream, baby. It's probably just stress."

"Stress?" he asked.

She smiled to herself. "Your LSAT?" she reminded him, as if it wasn't the only thing on his mind lately.

"Oh. Yeah. Probably just that." He kissed the top of her head and she cuddled close.

***

A few days later, Jess skipped her afternoon classes. She expected to find their apartment empty, but Sam was there, reading a book at the kitchen table.

He looked up in surprise when she walked in. "Jess! What are you doing home?" He slammed the book closed and cradled it against his chest, where she couldn't see the title.

Damn. She hadn't prepared a story because she thought he'd be in class. Stammering a little, Jess reached for a plausible lie. "I...um...my stomach was upset, so I came home to get some rest."

Sam stuffed the book in his bag. "Are you okay? Can I get you anything?"

"A hug, maybe."

Sam smiled. "Easily done." He came toward her and she met him halfway, resting her head on his broad chest as he hugged her close. "Sure you're okay, sweetheart?"

Jess smiled nervously. "It's probably nothing, Sam. I'll just lock myself in the bathroom for a while then go to bed. Don't worry."

Sam was frowning, and she hoped he wasn't going to insist on holding her hand or something.

He nodded, still looking worried. "Okay. Shout if you need anything."

"I will." She kissed him quickly and escaped into the bathroom.

She hated lying to Sam. But he had enough worries just now, with the all-important LSAT scores due next week, and his whole future riding on his result. It wasn't enough for Sam to do well; he needed to score high enough to stand a chance of getting a full ride and whichever law school he chose. Sam's nightmares seemed like a barometer of his stress levels, and judging by the frequency of his disturbed nights, he was worried about those results. Jess knew she couldn't give him anything more to worry about.

She locked the bathroom door behind her. She rummaged in her purse and pulled out the box she had purchased at the pharmacy. The small plastic stick fit into her hand. Jess sat on the edge of the bathtub and stared at it for the longest time.

She was only a week late. She was probably panicking over nothing.

Oh, if only Sam weren't at home! She wasn't sure she could bear to do this knowing he was right outside.

She was being a coward.

Jess steeled herself and did what had to be done.

Thirty minutes later, she was looking at a tiny plastic window displaying two clear, pink lines.

Jess wrapped the pregnancy test in a great deal of toilet tissue and hid it in the bottom of her purse. She unlocked the bathroom door and, avoiding the kitchen where Sam was sitting with his book, she crept up to their bedroom, undressed, and cried herself to sleep.

***

Later, Sam brought her soup in bed, and she told him she was feeling much better. He climbed into the bed with her and what was supposed to be a comforting cuddle turned into slow lovemaking. In Sam's arms, Jess could forget her worries, and he seemed relaxed, even playful.

When he held her, after, Jess thought there was something he was trying to say to her...but Sam didn't say it and she drifted off to sleep with her head pillowed on his shoulder.

***

Jess woke alone.

She stretched across to Sam's side of the bed, fumbling for the light switch. She knocked a book off the nightstand before she found the light. The book had fallen open on the floor. Jess picked it up. It was the book Sam had been reading earlier. She glanced at the pages.

Spontaneous human combustion? Why on earth was Sam reading this? She turned the pages, frowning. This from the guy who refused to join the game telling ghost stories after midnight. This from the man who hated Halloween. The book didn't seem like anything Jess would expect Sam to read. Ever.

She replaced the book on the nightstand and went in search of Sam.

Sam was in the kitchen. The only light came from his cell phone. Sam was staring at the display.

"Sam?" Jess hesitated in the doorway. "Sam, baby, it's two in the morning. Who are you calling?"

Sam turned the phone off. "No one."

"Who are you _not_ calling, then?"

"I...I was thinking about my Dad."

Oh, Sam... All thought of the weird book fled from Jess's mind. She went to Sam and hugged him close to her.

Sam's father was a painful subject, Jess knew. She remembered, because Sam told her so little about his family, that his father liked to spend most of Halloween week in a drunken stupor.

Though Sam hadn't said it, Jess long ago reached the conclusion that his father had been abusive. It was the most straightforward explanation for the scars he bore - too many for the usual childhood mishaps - and for Sam's careful silence on the subject of his family. And while he'd never confirmed her suspicions, Jess was sure he had hinted occasionally. It was as close as he came to opening up about his past. He'd told her once that he left home because he hated being scared all the time.

Jess understood that he needed to move on, so she never mentioned her suspicions to Sam. One day, when he was ready, he would tell her.

***

The next time Jess woke alone was Halloween.

She turned over in bed, sleepily reaching out for Sam, and found his side of the bed empty, but still warm. It must be another nightmare. She'd thought the amazing score Sam received for his LSAT would help the stress, but if he was still having nightmares, she was wrong. Poor Sam. He seemed so happy at the party that evening, even if he had refused to wear a costume.

Jess had worries of her own, now. She was going to have to tell Sam soon.

Tomorrow, she decided. Tonight, she would find Sam and try, one more time, to get him to talk about these awful dreams.

She padded barefoot through the apartment. She expected to find Sam sitting in their kitchen in the dark again, but she heard his voice from the darkness of the living room.

"Uh, the _phone_?"

And then, a male voice she didn't recognise: "If I'd have called, would you have picked up?"

Jess snapped the light on. "Sam?"

Sam looked her way as the light came on and for an instant Jess saw a stranger in his eyes. Then he blinked, and it was her Sam again.

"Jess...hey." Sam sounded awkward, as if she'd caught him stealing the cookie dough or something.

Jess stared, not at Sam, but at the man beside him. She had no idea who he was, or what he was doing in their apartment. She felt a small shiver of fear.

Sam looked at the other man. He didn't seem afraid. "Dean, this is my girlfriend Jessica."

At first the name meant nothing to her. Then it clicked. "Wait. Your _brother_ Dean?"

Dean's frown dissolved into an easy smile, and he looked at her in a way she found very familiar. "I love the Smurfs," he drawled, staring at her chest. "You know, I gotta tell you, you are completely out of my brother's league."

Jess looked down at her Smurf night-shirt, suddenly conscious of how little she was wearing. "Just let me put something on," she muttered. Sam gave her a pleading look and she remembered he didn't like to talk about his family. It was enough. She stayed.

Dean's look was too direct for comfort. "No, no, no, I wouldn't dream of it." His gaze dropped from her eyes to her chest. Again. "Seriously," he added, and Jess wondered if Sam would mind if she scratched his brother's eyes out.

Dean flashed a grin at her. "Anyway, I gotta borrow your boyfriend here, talk about some private family business, but, uh, nice meeting you."

It was a dismissal. Jess glanced up at Sam. Normally, she would have told Dean to get the hell out, but she knew family was a difficult subject for her Sam. If _he_ wanted her to leave, she would go.

Sam moved to her side, then, sliding an arm around her shoulders. She wondered why he hadn't come to her before. "No," Sam said firmly. "No, whatever you wanna say, you can say it in front of her."

Jess leaned into the heat of his body, grateful for his support. She still wanted to ask Dean to leave, but her curiosity won.

Dean seemed annoyed. He said, looking at Sam, not at Jess, "Okay. Dad hasn't been home in a few days."

Sam shrugged. "So he's working overtime on a 'Miller Time' shift; he'll stumble back in sooner or later."

Dean didn't look at Jessica. "Dad's on a _hunting trip_ and he hasn't been home in a few days."

Jess felt Sam's body stiffen against her. She didn't know why. What was so significant about a hunting trip, when Sam had told her his father was a heavy drinker, especially at this time of year?

She was about to ask when Sam said quietly, "Jess, excuse us. We have to go outside."

Jess stared at Sam, then at Dean. "Sam, what's going on?"

He kissed the tip of her nose. "Everything's fine, Jess. I'm just going to hear Dean out, okay?"

She nodded, unable to come up with a reasonable objection, and stood back to let the two men leave. She heard their muffled voices on the stairs, then the door opened and closed and she heard nothing.

Jess walked over to the window, turning off the light so they wouldn't see her watching. She could see the tension in every movement Sam made. Something was wrong. She didn't know what to do. For no reason, she shivered.

***

Jess made cookies. She made cookies because Sam always said it was cute. She made cookies because they were his favourite, and she wanted him to smile when he came home. She made cookies because she was scared, a little, of how Sam would take the news she knew she couldn't put off telling him.

He had to come home tonight. He had promised to be back in plenty of time for the interview.

Jess waited up until after midnight. Every time she heard a car outside she rushed to the window, but it was never him.

Finally, she was so tired she pinned a note to the plate of cookies and headed upstairs to bed. In the bathroom she combed out her hair and cleaned her teeth. She rinsed out her mouth, washed her hands and walked sleepily into the bedroom. She didn't bother turning the light on; she was so familiar with the room she had no need of light.

She smiled when she saw the tall figure silhouetted against the bedroom window. "Sam?"

The figure turned around. She saw - a trick of the light, it had to be - sickly yellow eyes glowing faintly in a face made of shadow.

She heard a door open, and Sam's voice. "Jess! You home?"

Jess drew breath to scream.


End file.
